After the Absence
by Brilliantskip
Summary: Sherlock returns to John after the fall. John's new girlfriend is best friends with his sister Harri. Can they win a bet set by Mycroft to get Sherlock with Harri?
1. Chapter 1- Post Reichenbach

Chapter 1-

Post Reichenbach

It was a crisp March morning at 221B Baker Street. John Watson was busy pottering about in the kitchen making an attempt to create breakfast out of a few carrots, cheese and half a pint of milk; not to mention the numerous toes in the fridge. Sherlock Holmes was sat reading the newspaper in his favourite arm chair by the fireplace, as if nothing had changed. Of course, everything had; Sherlock had faked his death in order to keep his best friends and loved ones safe. It was when he reappeared into John's life after a long absence that some problems had occurred.

It was just an average day when it all happened. John, by now, had ceased his residence at Baker Street and had moved back to somewhere close to his old flat. The daily reminders of his friend were too much to cope with. Sentiment. Only now did it seem so important and painful. Don't be dead. John would say. He visited the spot as often as he could. He begged and begged and hoped for Sherlock to return and amaze him with his brilliance once more. Suicide. Why was it suicide? Death would seem so dull to Sherlock. He wouldn't be able to impress anyone with remarkable deductions or show off, annoy Anderson or advance his own particular, if questionable, field of science. Why would he chose it willingly?

John sat, silent, at his desk. He tried to keep up the blog. The hit counter still at 1895. It was too painful. Being stuffed up inside for weeks at a time couldn't be good for him. A walk should suffice. He left the laptop open, grabbed his coat and wearily stepped into the hallway. He returned a few hours later feeling somewhat refreshed even though he knew inhaling too much London smog could be harmful. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Closing it behind him, he noticed something unnerving. His mind on instant alert. If there was anything that living with Sherlock had done for him, it was that he was never careless. He could have sworn he had left the laptop lid up. But it was obviously down. John tentatively tiptoed over to it. He lifted the lid. There was a video file open on the screen. He clicked play.

"Sherlock" he mouthed breathlessly.

"John. As you know, I'm not one to apologize but I think you need one. An apology. I'm not dead John. It was Moriarty. He was going to kill you. I had to do it. There was no choice and I am so sorry. I want you to try to accept this. I know it's not going to be easy for you. I needed to make sure you were safe." John suddenly blacked out.

When Sherlock received the news that John had been attacked in London he dropped everything in his search for Moran and returned home. He had to see John for himself. Needed to see the proof that John was alive. Hurt and a little broken, but alive.

He sneaked into the hospital, really he needed to speak to Mycroft about better security for John, as it was far too easy. Though Sherlock wasn't fool enough to believe his overbearing brother didn't know exactly where Sherlock was at every moment. Mycroft had probably informed his people that a shaggy haired, ginger man would paying a visit to Doctor Watson and that he should be left completely alone.

When Sherlock arrived at the door to John's room, Mycroft had naturally gotten John a private space, he eased the door opened silently and cautiously peaked inside. John was fast asleep, no doubt thanks to the machines pumping medicine into his body. Despite the bruises darkening John's face, a black eye and a rather terrible looking purple welt on his left cheek, Sherlock felt as if he had never seen anyone to look perfect. The full impact of how much he missed John hit him harder than a train and tears, unbidden, formed in his tired eyes.

He quietly lowered himself in the chair beside John's bed and carefully, oh so carefully, picked up John's hand and held it in his. More tears rushed to his eyes as he lay a delicate kiss to John's smaller, darker hand and whispered apologies against his skin. He pressed John's hand to his stubble covered cheek and breathed in the scent of the man he gave up everything for.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered as he pressed another kiss on John's palm. "I'm so sorry, John."

John stirred slightly in his bed and Sherlock tensed as John's eyes flickered beneath his lids. Half of him was begging John to wake up, to see those dark blue eyes sparkling and swimming with warmth. To hear John's voice, to hear him grant Sherlock the forgiveness his doesn't and will never deserve. But Sherlock knew it couldn't be. Not yet. Not when John was still so obviously in danger.

Closing his eyes and placing one last lingering kiss to John knuckles, Sherlock made to stand up when John's voice startled him.

"Hmm…who's there?" he mumbled as he fought off the unconsciousness of the drugs. "Harri? That you?" John blearily tried opened his eyes and Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. "Hello?" John's voice was beginning to sound panicky.

"Shhh..." Sherlock soothed as he placed his hand over John's eyes. "Go back to sleep, you're all right. You're safe, John."

Sherlock moved his hand to John's forehead and brushed back his fringe. "Everything is going to be fine," he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss into John's hair.

"M' I dreaming?" John asked as he slowly slipped back into sleep.

"Yes, John," Sherlock told him. "You're dreaming," his hand was now cupping John's cheek, thumb caressing his eyelid.

John's eyes opened now and gazed at Sherlock with so much sadness and hope and utter devastation Sherlock felt himself unable to speak. All words were stuck in his throat as he stared into midnight irises that drank his face in like a desperate man dying of thirst.

John's hand reached out and touched Sherlock's face, the back of his knuckles sweeping down his cheek, before his fingers traced feverishly over Sherlock's cheekbone.

"I don't want to wake up," John said in a breathless voice. "Please, Sherlock. I don't- I can't- Please. God, don't leave me again." John's voice was tight and clogged now, clearing fighting off the tears threatening to fall.

Sherlock leaned forward again resting his forehead against John's. "Shhh. It's all right, John. I promise someday when you wake up I'll be here. But for now you have to let me go." Sherlock pressed more soft kisses to John's face and hair whispering words filled with promises he wondered if he could keep.

"Someday, John," he said over and over again as he watched his friend slip back under to lure of drugs.

"Promise?" John asked in a voice so far away and quiet that Sherlock barely heard him.

"I promise, John. I swear I'll give you your miracle."

Two months later; John was on the mend. After being discharged from hospital, he once again took up residence with his old friend.

"3 years Sherlock!" John would constantly remind him if he put a word out of line. There had been numerous arguments since the event.


	2. Chapter 2- Obvious!

Chapter 2-

Obvious?!

The Consulting Detective put the paper down and took a moment to look up at John. **_How is he so placid?_** Sherlock wondered. **_He seems so different._** He found his thoughts interrupted by a known yet already too familiar voice.

"Halloo everyone, can I come up?"

"Lowri is here Sherlock. Please. Put some clothes on and make yourself look presentable." John spoke in a tone which he only used to make Sherlock do something when he wanted to. He didn't use it often and when he did, it never really had any effect so the fact that this time Sherlock sprang to it and danced off to his bedroom to get changed was a complete first for John and left him speechless.

"Hey babe, how are you today?" Lowri said as she entered the room. Her bright bluish green eyes flickered as she searched for Sherlock in the front room where he was usually situated. "Where's Sherlock? He usually sits over there reading the paper at this time in the morning."

"Sherlock is getting changed and uh, uh, alright thanks sweetie, just making some breakfast." John replied bringing his mind back to the more current happenings. Lowri glanced at the kitchen table where John's breakfast ingredients were laid out then looked back at John with a concerned yet humored face. "Actually, I think I should probably pop to the shops to get something. Back soon…" The doctor placed a kiss on Lowri's cheek, grabbed his coat and hopped lightly down the stairs at a quickened pace.

Lowri and John had been dating for the past 3 weeks. Her mind was set on something else though as she took a seat in John's armchair, Harri; her best friend and John's sister. She was due to come down from Northamptonshire to visit. She was even more excited because she hadn't seen her for over a year. Lowri and John were trying to win a bet that Sherlock's brother Mycroft had set them. 'To get her with Sherlock' John had said it was impossible and was determined to prove Mycroft wrong. It was to be kept hush, hush though.

Suddenly, Sherlock entered the room and made her jump. He looked at her in a questioning manner and lowered himself into his armchair opposite Lowri and continued reading the paper, now fully dressed. Lowri had never really spoken to Sherlock before. He seemed very distant with everyone but John almost all the time so she tended to stay away and avoid making conversation so she was entirely shocked when Sherlock started addressing her and asking questions.

"How old is Harri?" he asked, still with his paper held in front of his face. Lowri hadn't told anyone about Harri, only John and Mycroft knew apart from herself.

"Did John tell you she was coming?" Lowri asked back. She wasn't sure whether to answer his question fully.

"No, John hasn't been telling me much recently. It's all very obvious though." **_OBVIOUS? _**The thought screamed in her head. **_How could he know? It was all kept so secret!_**

"Oh don't give me that look Lowri. You've been coming round often enough for me to notice something as simple as that. Firstly, your coat, freshly washed and ironed this morning, strange for you to do your ironing on a Saturday morning and it is not yet 10:00am. Why would you be up so early if it wasn't for something important? Clearly something is happening either today or early tomorrow. Now, you're wondering how I knew it was Harri. Easy, John has been on the phone to her more than normal recently, how often does he talk to her normally? Once? Twice a month? This is almost twice a week. Obviously there is some link there as she is John's sister and you are her best friend. What's the connection you ask? Again it is simple. As ever, you see but do not observe, John and you have been planning this for quite a while now. You've had the idea to introduce me to John's sister. What gave you the idea? Mycroft! I bet it was Mycroft. Oo, bet. Yes… It's a bet set by Mycroft for you to hook me up with John's sister. It's not going to happen, and I'm not sure what you all think will happen, but anyway, I am intrigued. Now, that being the case I would like to know… How old is she?"

Lowri was shocked. She was caught so off her guard. How long had Sherlock known the plan? It was only a joke though. Perhaps it had gone too far, but no, she wanted to see what his reaction to her would be.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked.


	3. Chapter 3- Deduction and Deception

Chapter 3-

Deduction and Deception

John could sense the tension when he returned with the shopping.

"Talk to her did you, Sherlock?" He asked sarcastically.

"I merely asked a question to which I still have no answer."

"25" Lowri exclaimed and left the room in a sudden flush of a hurry. John gave Sherlock a confused, yet disappointed face. He dropped the shopping he was holding and ran after her. Sherlock rose out of his armchair and watched John chase her down the street to her house out of the window nearest his chair. She didn't live far. John returned a few hours later clearly distressed.

"She wants me to believe that she ruined it for us all but no, it wasn't her was it? It was you Sherlock. How long have you known about the plan? We even had the support of your brother Mycroft and that is saying something!"

"Support?! It was him who set the bet! Of course, I know. Your eyes told me that."

"How could my eyes possibly tell you that?"

"I took the liberty of examining the placement of your eyes once after you returned from one of your secret meeting with Mycroft. Yes, I know about those too. Your eye lids are slightly lower than your usual stance holds them. Then, obviously, the tremor in your hand is a clear indication that Mycroft has something to do with it. That and the increasing number of phone calls you have been making to Harri these past few weeks. It was not such a difficult deduction as first you may have thought." Sherlock ended his narrative and looked expectantly at John.

"You, didn't answer my question. How long have you known?" He said sternly, unimpressed at Sherlock's deduction.

"Why is it always me John? You are so different! What happened to being amazed by my high speed deductions? What happened to solving crimes together? Sherlock and John against the world?"

"You died Sherlock, that's what happened." He let out a deep sigh and looked towards the floor.

"Lowri didn't need to get upset. I only asked her how old Harri was."

"It's alright, I know, sometimes I feel like crying when you ask me some of your ridiculous questions." John chuckled as he replied to Sherlock. Suddenly, he started feeling more like himself again since Sherlock had reappeared into his life. "Being as Harri is coming round tomorrow, I suppose we should attempt to tidy round a bit."

"Indeed…"

It turned out to be quite an eventful day for John and Sherlock. They dusted and cleaned and had a good tidy up. Mrs. Hudson their landlady was most impressed with the sudden clear out. Sherlock always made a point of calling her his house keeper which she so obviously detested.

"Not your housekeeper!" she would say time and time again. John was dusting around the mantel piece where Billy the skull was situated when he almost jumped out of his skin. "Doing a bit of spring cleaning are we?" Mrs. Hudson asked as she entered the room silently. Sherlock was quietly amused at his friend's fright.

"Harri is coming tomorrow morning Mrs. Hudson, we are just making the place look slightly more acceptable." He said whilst putting a hand on his chest and getting his breath back. John shot an unimpressed glance at Sherlock's smug grin who then tutted under his breath and continued sorting through the stuff on the coffee table.

"Ah, that's lovely dear; I've been so looking forward to meeting her. Can I help at all?"

"No it's fine Mrs. Hudson you don't need to."

"Thanks John. I brought you some tea. Have a break now and carry on later you've been at it all day and it's getting dark now."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

She left the room and John and Sherlock sat in their chairs and drank their tea. It was a welcome relief from all the cleaning.

By now it was late evening now and Sherlock had receded to his bedroom. He lay on his bed gazing at the ceiling with his fingertips together, contemplating over the days occurrences. 25…25…25… The number swirled around his head. Sherlock was only 26. Just one year older. **_What if- What's happening to me? I can't let myself get caught up in this. Ugh._** And with that thought he fell into a blissful sleep filled with deduction and deception.


	4. Chapter 4- Seed of Doubt

Chapter 4-

Seed of Doubt

"Get up! We've overslept! Come on Sherlock!" A contemptuous groan arose from the bed.

Sherlock sat up wearily, his eyes filled with sleep. "I had almost finished the case John. Why did you have to wake me?"

"Sherlock you were sleeping and Harri is due in an hour! Why is it always me asking you to put your clothes on? Quick, get ready, come on!" John pestered.

The doctor hurried out of his room and continued making preparations for his long awaited sister's arrival. Sherlock, meanwhile, dressed himself casually in his pajamas and meandered to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. John was sprinting around like a mad race horse adding final touches and making sure everything was ready for Harri.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Three knocks, clearly not a client but somebody well known. Not known well enough to be Lowri. Oh dear lord. She's early." Sherlock complained under his breath.

"Let yourself in!" John shouted from the top of the stairs.

Harri made her way arduously up the creaky stairs carrying her heavy suitcase. **_At least it's not pink_**. John thought. John had been evicted to the sofa for two weeks as Harri was to be sleeping in his room during her stay. She set down her case and made her way back downstairs to the living room where Sherlock was impatiently and unwillingly awaiting for her arrival.

"I'm surprised John. The room looks good it's clean for a start. Mycroft had told me it always looks like a bomb has-"

"My brother; you know my brother?" Sherlock said exasperated. She couldn't even finish her sentence before she had entered the room. What were the next two weeks going to be like?

"Why yes. Mycroft and I are rather good friends." Sherlock was up in a glance and doing his usual questioning stare with his head tilted to one side. **_Aww, that's cute. _**Harri thought.

Sherlock had done this before. John had thought that love was a mystery to him but the chemistry for it is very simple. He was going to make John lose his bet but he wanted to get his own back at him for taking it up in the first place. He took Harri's hand and discretely took her pulse but she knew what he was doing.

"Well umm. Hello Sherlock. We haven't even met and you're taking my pulse. That's a bit racy for a Sunday morning. Quick to jump to conclusions are we?"

"My; your skills of deduction are quite impeccable. Extremely quick I dare say. How did you know what I was doing?" Sherlock asked, literally astounded.

"Obvious isn't it?" Harri shot back in a sarcastic and humored tone. Sherlock stood back aghast. How many times had he said that to John and others and now it was being used against him in a sarcastic way? He quickly thought up something to say before it looked as if he was stuck for words.

"Why yes, obvious to me perhaps. John isn't even that quick and we've been together for over 3 years now"

"Yeah, umm…we're not gay." John interjected quite embarrassed at the way his companion had structured his words. "And don't forget the three year absence!"

Harri chuckled under her breath. Her dark brown curly hair covering her face and she looked down, trying to conceal her smug grin. Sherlock stared more intently at her. **_Can this really be John's sister? She's not like him at all! _**He thought to himself.

"Is there anything to eat?" Harri asked as she made her way towards the fridge.

"NO DON'T!" John screamed suddenly for he knew what lurked in the there. Harri paused as she opened the door for what seemed an age before anyone spoke.

"Is that a bag of toes in the fridge?" Harri asked still facing the open door.

"Umm… Yes. It is. It's one of Sherlock's experiments. Right, Sherlock?"

"Yes, I am measuring the reduction of muscle tissue after death while stored in inadequate temperature conditions." He said, quite pleased with himself.

Harri turned around to look at them both. Nothing could have prepared John for what he heard next.

"Can I help with your research?" She asked.

John was speechless. Had he been drinking a drink, he would have spat it all over the kitchen. Sherlock looked towards her in a puzzled way and a smile started to appear at the side of his mouth. **_Ha-ha, the bet's off with Mycroft John. _**Sherlock thought. But something told him that his sarcasm was not right at that particular time, something was off, not quite right. And in that moment, he saw his credibility crumble, the seed of doubt had taken root and flourished into a brilliant snare.

Sherlock Holmes; the world's only consulting detective… was in love.


	5. Chapter 5- An Interesting Week

Chapter 5-

An Interesting Week

John wasn't up yet, but Sherlock with his heightened senses could hear him breathing, collapsed on the sofa after a long day of chasing suspects through the streets of London. Of course, the "Sheeran Chase" as John had dubbed it on his blog was transparent. The thief was merely a fan trying to get lucky and worrying the young musician stiff for a few days. Sherlock had decided not to tell him or Harri that the people they had been running after weren't actually anything to do with the crime. He called them his "projects": certain people Sherlock would watch just out of boredom to find out about their lives, and to laugh at when they got things wrong… It was 4:08am. He looked at his hand. It was perfectly still yet he felt like he was shaking with adrenaline. He wanted to do something. Something exciting. Something dangerous. Something fun.

But what was there to do like that at 4 o'clock in the morning? It jolted through his brain until he wasn't even sure what he was thinking. Something about murder. Something about Harri. Something about sex. Sex. Could he? Dare he? Should he? No, no… It was almost forbidden from his mind. It was the section of his mind palace that was regarded as "restricted", and Sherlock had never really considered intruding on his own deep, personal thoughts. He didn't know what would happen to him. How he would react? He wanted to investigate. He wanted to understand. But even for him, this felt like crossing the line. Sex. Had he before? No. Of course not! He'd struggled to get a roommate, let alone a 'mate-mate'". Of course, he knew everything about it but there was something that intrigued him. Something he still couldn't understand. Was this what he couldn't work out from Harri?

Sherlock walked over towards John who was uncomfortably stretched out on the sofa. He tapped him gently on the arm and waited till he had opened his eyes slightly. He murmured something inaudible.

"I need to ask you something… How would one go about showing someone that they care about them?" Sherlock stated. John looked at him bewildered.

"You're kidding, right?" John almost began to laugh even though he was so tired. "You don't have a caring bone in your body."

Sherlock was about to make a rude remark, but he decided it would be best to ignore John's snarky comment.

"Go to bed Sherlock."

"Alright." Sherlock got up from his seat and approached the door.

"Why are you so concerned about this anyway? Sherlock, where are you going?"

He quietly tiptoed up to Harris room, making sure not to wake Mrs. Hudson. Harri was engulfed in her bed sheets and she mumbled quietly to herself as if in some kind of trance. When Sherlock parted the door slightly to peer inside. His heart fluttered and then settled into a solid beat as he gulped and smiled.

"Sherlock…" Harri muttered in her sleep. "Oh…"

He couldn't help himself. He placed one of his cool trembling hands on her warm arm almost instantly making her wake up with a jolt. She didn't know whether she was still dreaming or whether she was actually in the real world. John was soon unable to sleep due to the moans of arousal and pleasure echoing through 221B Baker Street.

**_That bastard _**he thought. **_4 bloody days she's been here. She's my sister! Why would he do this to me? I suppose I should have seen the subtext with that one though…How am I supposed to sleep now? _**

"Are they still doing it John?" Mrs. Hudson asked the next morning as she entered the room to collect the rent.

"Yes" John spoke quietly, almost feverishly as he said the word. Of course there were intervals of quietness for maybe ten-fifteen minutes but it would soon start up again and the flat would once again be filled with some not so pleasurable sounds for John and Mrs. Hudson. DI. Lestrade often came round to record the noises on his phone just so he could take the mick at a later date. Lowri had been so looking forward to seeing her best friend but now… All she could say was,

"I spoke to him once."

A week after John's torment started, the noises lulled and seemed to gradually come to a stop.

"Does it seem rather oddly quiet to you Mrs. Hudson?" John asked.

But just then, Sherlock walked into the room, fully dressed in his usual attire and went straight to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. There was no talk, no eye contact, just the sound of the kettle slowly coming to the boil, it being poured and the light footsteps of Sherlock as he walked back upstairs to his room.


	6. Chapter 6- Awkward

Chapter 6-

Awkward

Harri awoke soon after Sherlock had returned to the bedroom. She was exhausted and ached all over. Sherlock was perched at the edge of the bed and held out a cup of coffee for her as she propped herself against the headrest. Harri took the cup and drank it down readily. He throat was sore and very dry, she wondered when the last time she had a drink was. She looked at Sherlock with adoring eyes and couldn't quite work out why he was so quiet. Suddenly she swooned and her eyes lids dropped as she fell into a deep sleep. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at her and gave a slight smile.

Not soon after the dawn of the next morning broke, Harri wearily seeped back to life.

"What happened?" She asked, quite embarrassed as to have not remembered much. But Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. She got up, had a long shower and dressed herself ready to go downstairs. She parted the door to her bedroom silently and peered out through the gap. There was the sound of the TV and John complaining about something. Pushing the door further, she could hear more of the conversation that was going on downstairs.

"I don't care how much you claim to love her Sherlock I still won't believe you! You have no sense of sentiment let alone love! She is my sister and you can't just go about carrying out bloody science experiments on her!" John snapped at Sherlock as Harri slowly made her way downstairs making sure that none of the steps creaked as she walked on them.

"But it's what she wants!" Sherlock protested.

"What she wants?! You have no idea about what anyone wants! You have no concept of manners, no care for emotion. As far as I can see, you seem to purge all emotion and are incapable of understanding the slightest change in status. How do you know what she wants? Does she whisper it to you in her sleep?" John added sarcastically as he continued to rant and rave at Sherlock.

"Indeed she does. Now can we please leave it at that? I have done what I did out of Harri's best interest. It is now to you whether you decide to accept that! GOOD DAY!" He said in a huff and stormed out of the room. "Purge all emotion… pfft!" Sherlock scoffed under his breath as he made his way up the stairs only to bump into Harri unexpectedly letting out a slight cry as he was caught off his guard.

"Well… umm… this is a bit awkward." Harri said shyly as she looked at her toes and then to the detective.

"Yes, I suppose it is…" He replied cautiously eying the door of the living room.

"What's going on up there? Sherlock?" John asked as he came through the living room doors. "Oh…Harri… Are you okay? Oh god…How much did you hear?" He asked as he cast weary glances towards Sherlock.

"Enough" Harri replied.

Later that day as Harri sat cautiously at the end of her bed, there was a knock at her bedroom door.

"Come in!" she called and looked expectantly towards the turning handle. The tall figure of Sherlock squeezed through the slightly parted door and he silently closed it behind him. He made his way towards the bed and took a seat next to Harri their legs resting alongside each other's.

"Listen, about earlier…"

"You don't need to apologize or anything, not that you would, but, I would just like to know… ugh… damn I don't know how to put this… what did I say when I was sleeping?"

"Ah. That is indeed the one thing I really didn't want to tell you…just yet. I would like to see you expression when you find out."

"But John said you were doing experiments on me. Hang on, did you drug me?"

"Yes and no. Yes, I did drug you but it was for your own good and no they are not experiments, they are projects of ongoing editing for improvement. I'm altering something for a better effect… an effect that you will hopefully like." Sherlock said whilst making a useless attempt to apologize even though he wouldn't call it that.

"But why did you drug me? I trusted you!"

"There is no need to worry about that Harri! I do it to practically everyone. My, your dear brother has had countless experiments conducted-" Harri gave him the most withering look imaginable and for once, Sherlock Holmes was rendered speechless.

A few days later, Sherlock went out to the morgue to analyse something 'secret' but he was being very withdrawn and wouldn't talk much so consequently Harri could still not work out anything that had gone on whilst she had been drugged. John had gone out to visit an old friend of his and was expected to be gone most of the day. Harri felt lonely then she realized she hadn't seen Lowri for over a week…The Week.

"Hey! Lowri! God, I missed you so much! How have you been? How's the job?" Harri asked as she greeted her at the front door.

"I've been great! Job's going well. Mycroft is his usual self. I hear you have lots to tell me you lucky thing." The two girls hurriedly ran up the stairs to the sitting room of the flat.

They spent the early morning chatting and rambling on about all things Sherlock and Harri learned that even Lowri had been drugged by him as well so she wasn't as angry any more.

"You do realize we could hear you down the street right?"

"WHAT?! We were that loud?!"

"Yeah it was really awkward. My heart goes out to poor Mrs. Hudson. By the way… did you use a, you know, thing?"

"A thing?"

"Yeah, a protection thing to stop yourself from getting pregnant?"

"Oh yeah! Don't worry, John was very helpful, he left a big pile of them outside the front of our door. I don't suppose he felt as if Sherlock would have many. Aha." Soon after Lowri had left and was walking back in the direction of her house, Harri felt a sudden churn in her stomach. She ran to the nearest bathroom and was sick.


	7. Chapter 7- What I Wanted?

Chapter 7-

"What I wanted?"

Sherlock with his heightened senses knew that when he came back from the morgue something was bothering Harri. She sat curled in a tight ball on the sofa, cradling the union jack pillow that had been so integrated into his and John's lives. Harri stared meaninglessly at the carefully constructed cushion, absorbed in her own terrible thoughts. She didn't even hear Sherlock come in until he sat down next to her.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a generally concerned manner.

"God! Make some noise would you?! And don't pretend you don't know Sherlock." She snapped back at him. "It's what I wanted, you said… how is this; what I wanted?!" She held up a slender white instrument with a small dial on the front. Harri was pregnant.

"Harriett, listen. I never meant any disrespect… it's just… I read your messages to Lowri. I knew all about your plans and what you 'wanted'".

"You read through my messages? How? I clear them every night!"

"You misunderstand! Harri, I would never do that. I can read it in your eyes you see… it really is simple science, the art of reflection." Sherlock persisted.

"So you drugged me and read through my messages?"

"I simply wanted to refine our search and make sure everything was perfect and as you wanted."

"But what did I want?!" Harri asked, almost pleading.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. I'm really sorry Harri." She looked at him a questioning and almost upset manner and she was utterly astounded.

"You're apologizing?! What?"

"Yeah, I know… Just don't tell John." From that, Harri could make her own deduction that Sherlock was telling the truth.

She looked at him in a slightly confused way. Queer, she thought. Why is Sherlock being so open? He's always so withdrawn with every one! A slight smile began to appear at the side of her mouth.

"You know Sherlock... I think I love you in your own silly way." He looked at her shocked.

"Don't ever say that again!" He murmured.

"Why?"

"Because if you love me then everything I know is wrong."

"Everything you know about what? About me? Sherlock, you do know everything about me, you know things I don't even know about myself."

"You had a wife," Sherlock says. "You sought out a new girlfriend as soon as you could after you were divorced. You ask women out - you asked women out - all the time, whether you thought you had a chance with them or not. You love women, Harri." He breathes in. "For you, men are just for sex."

Harri furrows her eyebrows. "No, I've never thought of it like that."

Sherlock shoves his hands into his hair. "That was my mistake. There's always something, some clue I miss, something I don't see until it's too late. I should have ended this the moment we met. I should have known, should have realized. Stupid, stupid."

"So," Harri says slowly, "you chose me because you knew I'd like the sex but didn't think I would fall in love with you. You thought I was - what, exactly? Using you?"

"That we both would get what we want," says Sherlock, arm flailing out. "You'd have your needs fulfilled and I'd get to keep my flat mate and have a new friend instead of watching you chase after women who don't deserve you."

Harri blinks at him. She says softly, "And you want to convince me you don't love me."

"Shut up!"

"Why? What are you so afraid of?" She stands up from the sofa and takes hold of Sherlock's dressing gown, the material silky against her fingers. "Let's go to bed. We don't have to talk anymore."

"More sex will only make it worse," Sherlock whispers but he later crawls into bed nonetheless.

In the morning Sherlock is gone. Not in his bed, not in Harri's or John's, not on the sofa, not anywhere in the flat.

Harri's phone flashes the light that means she has a text waiting. She rubs her eyes and reads it, a message that fills her with resignation.

"I need time. SH."

Harri taps out, "Come home soon. I miss you," and sends the message. She rises, showers, makes tea, the phone within reach the entire time in case Sherlock calls or texts again.

It's a slow and lonely day, even though she watches some telly with Mrs. Hudson (who finds nothing strange about Sherlock's absence, which makes Harri feel it even more keenly.) She gets phone calls from both John and Mike Stamford. She tells them both she's doing fine, and then lies on the sofa and listens to violin CDs for a while. (Sherlock is fond of Itzhak Perlman, though Harri is drawn to Vanessa Mae.)

The call from Mycroft on the second day is a welcome interruption. "He's fine," Mycroft says without preamble. "He's safe."

"Where is he? When is he coming home?"

"Safe, and not yet," says Mycroft. "I can attempt to convince him, though I'd prefer he didn't know I'm watching him just yet."

"No," Harri says. "He won't listen to either of us. Thanks for letting me know."

"Yes," says Mycroft simply and hangs up.

The phone rings late on the third night - Lestrade, looking for Sherlock. "He's not answering his phone."

"He's not answering me, either."

"Is he sick?"

"He's…" Harri rubs her hand over her eyes. "Thinking."

"What is he doing?"

Harri says softly, "Making a decision," and smiles wryly as Lestrade lets loose a string of emphatic curses.

"Tell him to call me the moment he contacts you," says Lestrade and hangs up, too.

Harri switches to the text message application and types, "Come home. We're all worried about you."

She falls asleep with the phone in her hand, and its vibration wakes her. She squints at the screen, which reads, "Not yet. SH."

"Why?" She types, frustrated, missing him so much it's an actual pain in her gut, in her chest. "Come home. I miss you. I need you. I'll never say I love you again if you'll just come home. "Strange, she thinks after she's sent the message, with anyone else the promise would be to say I love you more often, to only say it if she meant it, to mean it.

She curses and types another text, "And call Lestrade. I think he has a case for you to solve. "No answer to that, either, but Harri thinks gloomily it's more likely Sherlock will talk to Lestrade than anyone else in their circle right texts, "Just let me know you're all right."

Sherlock's answer comes after just a few minutes. "I am. SH."

Harri stares at it and wonders if she should answer or if that would just spook Sherlock further. Her question is answered, however, when Sherlock texts her again, "Lestrade has a case for us. Bring John. SH." The next text is an address.

Harri thinks she shouldn't be so pleased, considering that someone else is suffering tonight, but she still gets up and dresses, grabs John and they catch a cab to meet Sherlock.


	8. Chapter 8- Recollection

Chapter 8-

Recollection

It's almost funny how on multiple occasions, Mycroft's cases have coincided with Lestrade's. Coincidence? No, it seemed to be something slightly more than that. They arrived at an old factory just on the outskirts of Ruislip. Harri looked towards John as they stood, dwarfed by the immense building after getting out of the taxi.

"Where's Sherlock?" She asked in a barely audible whisper. "He said he would meet us here."

"I did, and here I am!" Both John and his sister flung round to see Sherlock standing before them as stoic as ever. He looked slimmer, as if his cheek bones had been chiseled further from his face even though he had only been gone those few days. He tried not to make eye contact with Harri. He gave John a knowing nod and then awkwardly caught Harri's stare upon him. He gave her a slightly disappointed look but not one which implied that he was disappointed with her, more with himself.

Harri could never feel too angry at Sherlock for long. There was something about him which made you want to punch him for his inappropriate manner and awkward timings yet there was also something which made Harri love him ever further (even though she would never say it to Sherlock's face again after learning her lesson).

"Shall we continue?" Sherlock asked breaking the awkward silence.

"Hum, yes." John answered for them both.

The large, rusting metal door creaked on its hinges as they made their way through it. It was abnormally cold, so cold in fact that it made Sherlock flick up his coat collar further than it already was against the chill. A few soggy cardboard boxes were stacked in the corner of the large dimly lit room, with nothing else particularly striking in view...except... The body of a large middle aged man sprawled in a very inhuman stance across the floor. The pool of blood lengthening to its left.

Sherlock applied a pair of latex gloves and quickened his pace towards the deceased. He bent over, grabbing the man's arm. He pulled down its sleeve and sniffed at the man's elbow. **_Again... Queer_**. He made swift movements over the body, running his magnifying glass close to the skin and left no inch unchecked.

"John." Sherlock said after about two minutes studying the body. He gave him a knowing look. John made his way towards its head.

"He died of a blow to the back of his head made by a blunt instrument about seven hours ago." He stated and fell back on his heels.

"Not a boomerang by any shot was it? Harri asked jokingly trying to lighten the mood.

"You read his blog?!" Sherlock asked with a raised voice.

"Of course I read his blog, he's my brother. It's how we've kept in contact most of the time actually. In all honesty, I found 'The Hiker and the Backfire' one of the best reads on there. "John stood up and looked flattered.

"Well Harri. Would you like to take a look at this man and tell me all you can deduce?" Sherlock asked. She took a long decisive look towards the body. Harri walked over to it, knelt down and put two fingers in between the man's waist and his belt. She looked up at Sherlock and he looked down at her puzzled.

"Judging by the conclusion of your experiment you carried out when we first met, the reduction of muscle tissue after death while stored in inadequate temperature conditions, the muscle should not reduce at an overly fast rate. This man's trousers don't fit him."

"Perhaps he had lost a lot of weight and couldn't afford a new pair trousers. Maybe he had a low salary. He doesn't look like the most intelligent of men." John proposed as he looked towards Sherlock who raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to the side, meaning he had already considered the possibility. He gave John a rare congratulatory smile anyway.

"You miss my point." Harri continued, "If he didn't have enough money to buy a new pair of trousers, then why didn't he fasten his belt fully to keep them up? There are another three holes on this belt that he could have tightened it to. But your results show that the muscle should only reduce by about half a centimeter. This man (being quite large) should comprise of mostly fat. Surely he shouldn't have lost this much weight since he was killed approximately seven hours ago."

"Hum, quite so." Sherlock said. "I didn't know you paid that much attention to my experiments."

"Who couldn't?" Harri asked as a slight smile formed to the side of her mouth. Sherlock took his phone out of his pocket and dialed the all too familiar number for Lestrade.

"Yes. This is the body of Frank Asohome. He went missing about 4 years ago, the body was never recovered… until now."

"I'm not even going to ask how you knew that. Thank you anyway Sherlock. Hang on though… If he went missing 4 years ago; I can't be his blood on the floor then."

"No, he was preserved, somehow and had a donors blood poured next to him. If any of your task force was half as good as me, they would have noticed after carrying out DNA checks on the blood, which obviously hasn't occurred."  
"I've just cross referenced your conclusion with the DNA test they carried out on the body. There is no Frank Asohome in any records." Lestrade said.

"The killer was clever then. Managed to delete all data of him on public record. Lucky for you, I have an old newspaper cutting somewhere in my case files I could go and fish it out if you are willing to wait about an hour." Sherlock explained.

"No problem, call me if you find something. Thanks again." Sherlock ended the phone call without saying goodbye or even offering his gratitude.

"Where is Lestrade? I thought he would be here!" John murmured.

"He isn't here because I asked him not to be." Sherlock casted a quick glance at Harri and then back to John.

The doctor knew it would be no use to try and ask why so they left it at that.


	9. Chapter 9- The End of a Line

Chapter 9-

The End of a Line

There was an eerie atmosphere the next morning at 221B Baker Street. A harsh gale was blowing hail stones into the windows which made a chill fall down Harri's spine. The usual murmuring of the TV in the morning which she had grown so accustomed to was missing and the heaving breathing of Sherlock next to her made her feel as if she wasn't the only one sensing the change.

What was wrong? She couldn't tell. She left the comfort of the warm blankets and a rather bony-edged mass of half sleeping consulting detective and part-time annoying idiot behind her and tiptoed up to the door. She checked the clock. 11:23 am. She never stayed in bed this late and she was pretty sure Sherlock didn't either. Something was definitely up. She felt the warmth of Sherlock silently conjure behind her and they continued on to John's room. There was no sign of him. Harri turned around to Sherlock who was eying the room, squinting every so often, making mental notes probably, Harri thought. She turned around once more herself and tried to make her own deductions but her attempt was soon disregarded as Sherlock began to speak.

"He's gone to Lowri's." He said in with his deep voice, certainly not one which had just woken up so Harri concluded that he must have lain awake in bed until she had awoken. "They've broken up." He continued.

"What?" Harri asked exasperated, "How did you deduce that?" The tone of her voice still noted with some aggravation towards Sherlock. **_He had after all ran off for three days. _**  
"You know my methods, what can you gather yourself from looking at his room." Harri took a decisive look towards the room, trying as Sherlock had, to find some clues as to why they might have broken up. The sheets on John's bed were ruffled and there was his box of pills to the side. Harri knew that he had been taking antidepressants throughout the absence of Sherlock but even though Sherlock was now very much alive, he hadn't been able to wean himself off of them yet. Apart from that, his room looked adequately normal.

"I don't know" She replied after a good 45 seconds looking. "Please, would you care to explain your most remarkable conclusion?"

"The bed sheets aren't made; John always makes his bed in the morning more than likely due to his military career. The curtains aren't open, meaning he left in a rush. He probably got a text message sometime this morning from her, calling it off. Haven't you noticed though that they have been drifting apart a bit recently?" He continued his narrative as they made their way towards the living room.

"Not particularly, I've been slightly preoccupied, but now you mention it, Lowri came round the other day but I can't recall anytime that she mentioned John or them together at all. How long have you seen this going on?" Harri asked whilst Sherlock took a seat in his arm chair and grabbed towards the morning newspaper that Mrs. Hudson had brought up for them.

"It only started a week ago. But I must admit, to the untrained eye, it would have been hard to spot."

"And you have a trained eye do you?"  
"Have you seen how many girlfriends he has had in the past 4 months?" he said sarcastically. "I'm surprised it lasted this long actually. It was bound to end sooner or later, Lowri working with Mycroft and then dating John… not a good combination."  
"Yes, Mycroft had told me he didn't support it. 'Too interlinked' I think he called it." Harri added. She was slightly more accustomed to the idea of being pregnant now and felt much less shocked.

"Yes, he would wouldn't he?"

3 hours later, a very troubled John returned to 221B Baker Street. His worried sister and less than concerned flat mate were waiting for him as he entered the front room. He was smothered by Harri and was soon sat staring in the direction of the fireplace with a glazed look over his face. Sherlock thought it best to leave him to his own devises. He had seen this many a time before however, this was slightly different. John had never seemed so distressed before. Nevertheless, he buried himself in his practical experiments on the kitchen table and tried to pay no notice to the occasional sob coming from the room adjacent. Although he was generally concerned about his wellbeing, Sherlock attempted not to show it. He didn't want the contempt, caring side of himself being shown off any more than it had already been that week.

Two weeks later, John was still not himself. He stayed in his room for days on end, only emerging to eat and relieve himself in the bathroom. Harri postponed her stay for a further three weeks. She wanted to make sure that her brother was on the mend before she travelled back to her rural town in Northamptonshire. Lestrade came round a few times to try to console John, but to no avail. Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Harri, all attempted to try and get the old John back. But nothing said or done could undo what had happened. He was left utterly alone and felt a depressive and melancholy fog start to mist his eyes from all normality. **_Nothing I've seen in the Afghan War can even relate to this… no. Nothing._** He thought as the days ebbed on.

Concerned as Harri was, she was slightly more occupied with the small bump that had started to appear at the base of her stomach. She stroked and caressed it but she had started to wonder. It had only been two weeks since she found out she was pregnant. How could she have a bump this big already? Harri wanted for the world to tell John but she felt it would only break his heart more. Her thoughts trailed off as she thought of him once more.

"Sherlock, you need to talk to him." Harri pleaded the next day.

"What?! Why me? Why should I do it?" He protested.

"Because you're his best friend and everyone else had tried, so why shouldn't you?"

"It's not my job to go around and amend broken relationships… I'm a consulting detective for Pete's sake."

"Yes but you are also his friend and he needs you. You have a way with him, a connection that I will never understand; you know how to get through to him. Would you please just go and talk to him even if it is just for five minutes? I'll even look through the papers for you and see if there are any interesting cases going about."  
"Fine. Fine!" He complained as he arose from his armchair and made his way wearily towards the kitchen where Harri was standing. He took her hands and looked her in the eyes, "Just this once okay?" he asked.

"Okay." Harri said as she smiled to the ground and let out a pleased chuckle.


	10. Chapter 10- Ask John Nicely

Chapter 10-

Commencing Operation:

'Ask John Nicely'

Sherlock made tea for John which was completely out of his normal routine. He boiled the kettle, all the while contemplating the upcoming conversation structure plan (as he would). He looked towards Harri who smiled and nodded at him as he made his way up the stairs.

"John? John, are you there?" Sherlock asked as he knocked on the door to the bedroom.

"Go away!" a voice returned.

"Like that's going to happen!" Sherlock protested in a sarcastic way.

"Yeah, it is! Leave me alone!"

**_Perhaps if I act nice he might let me in…commencing operation 'Ask John nicely'. _**Sherlock thought."Jawn, come on. Please."

There was no reply. As Sherlock stepped through the door without John's permission, he heard a faint whimpering in the corner of the dark room. Tentatively, Sherlock crept in the direction of the noises.

"I'm sorry she left you, but you have to move on. It was, after all, two weeks ago that she dumped you." Sherlock said in his robot like manner considering nobodies thought's except his own. This statement caused John to burst out in a new, more passionate flood of tears. He sobbed into Sherlock's shoulder as they both found their way to John's bed and sat on the edge in the darkened, depressive feeling room. Sherlock's crisply ironed shirt now crumpled under the volume of John's tears.

"How long have you seen this coming, Sherlock?" John managed to blurt out between the violent sobs that shook his body.

"Only a week, but as I have already stated to Harri; to the untrained eye it was easily missed. But I decided to let it run its course; it's not my place to intervene with these things, no matter how much how much your sister believes it is." Sherlock explained. "Here John, I brought you some tea." He said, changing the subject to a more comfortable one for himself. John readily took the tea but it was still too hot to drink. So instead he cupped it in his cold hands still shaking from the crying. It was a warm relief.

"I must confess; we had been growing apart for some time. We both said that it wasn't working out, but I thought we would try to mend things. She said that she would at least try, she said she would try…" John trailed off. He tried the tea again, **_it should be cool enough now to drink_**, he thought. "No offense, this tea is bloody awful!"

"What did you expect? Have I ever made you a nice cup of tea?" Sherlock asked jokingly.

"Hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes the world's only consulting detective" John played sarcastically, trying to imitate Sherlock. He was starting to feel less emotional now. "I can tell you the life story of a speck of dust but I can't make a damn cup of tea!" Their laughter filled the top floors off the house and was music to Harri's ears as it began to echo through to their room as she had begun to getting ready to go out.

All of a sudden, Sherlock heard the doorbell ring; he had completely forgotten that Harri was going out shopping with Lowri to have a bit of a change of scenery, being as she had been cooped up indoors for over 3 weeks.

"Sherlock, can you get that. I'm in the shower." Harri shouted from their room. "It seems Lowri is a tad early."

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Sherlock shouted to John from the stairway. As he approached the main door, he heard Lowri's voice seeping through the cracks.

"Mycroft, calm down. I am _at_ his house; I will not forget to ask him. Yes, I will. You already know that. Ugh, bye!" **_Mycroft? Why was Lowri talking to Mycroft?_** Sherlock thought to himself as he reached for the handle. "Hello Sherlock. Yes I know you are there, your shadow is underneath the door." Sherlock turned the handle and stood on the cold door step of 221B. "Trust me, if you even mention this to Harri I will tell her exactly what you put into her coffee. Don't look at me like that. Mycroft knows everything you do."

"All I was going to say was your hair looks different. Have you done something to it?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"No! Stop changing the subject. Listen; I'm sorry. It's Mycroft you see. He's given me these very strict instructions and I'm on a tight schedule. He wants everything yesterday."

"What is it you want to ask me?" Sherlock asked, getting to the point.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but what you gave to Harri; you need to give hand it over to Mycroft. He can't have you administering non-prescription drugs that you've invented yourself to people. Especially Harri! What if it went wrong? Did you think about the consequences for all of us? How would you feel? Mrs. Hudson? Myself? John?" Lowri asked quite angrily.  
"How would John feel?!" Sherlock returned exasperated. "Well, you didn't think about that when you left him did you? He's been distraught! He barely eats, barely sleeps, doesn't leave his room and now you're here complaining to me and trying to make me to feel guilty whereas actually, you need to feel guilty yourself. You're a waste of space!"

"Thank you. That is he wanted." Lowri said after a few seconds.

"What? Wanted what? Mycroft?" Sherlock questioned hurriedly.

"Yes, Mycroft. He wanted an emotional response. He wanted to see that you did what you did because you felt it the right thing to do. Not just because you felt like it. I don't have to explain how he works that out. He's actually been listening the whole time. I didn't end the call."  
"MYCROFT!" Sherlock screamed making people across the road look in his direction and start to quicken their pace. He snatched the phone out of Lowri's hand as she showed it to him.

"Dear Brother, surely you should have cottoned on I was listening. Has Lowri ever been that short with you?" Mycroft asked sarcastically as Sherlock aggressively put the phone to his ear.

"What is your problem Mycroft?! If you want the uh, the…" Sherlock's voice trailed off to a whisper as he turned away from Lowri. "The Spironolactone Isosorbide, then you better come and get it!" with that, he hung up the phone, gave Lowri an intense look and turned back into the house just as Harri was making her way down the stairs.

"See you soon Honey" She said as Sherlock hugged her, he glanced at Lowri and continued by having an intimately long kiss with Harri. The man who was usually so unfeeling and uncaring was now in the height of his element.

"Ready?" Lowri asked finally trying to show how bored and slightly disgusted she was.

"Yes! Let's go" and with that, they both left the flat and Sherlock made his way back up to the bedroom to finish the chat that John had so desperately needed.


	11. Chapter 11- Those Few Minutes

Chapter 11-

Those Few Minutes

"How's the tea?" Sherlock asked jokingly as he entered the room.

"Positively crap!" followed the reply.

"Sherlock, listen, I'm really sorry I snapped at you the other day. Of course, I would be very overprotective of Harri; you know what I'm like. I'd do anything for family." He looked towards Sherlock as he sat down next to him once more.

"John."

"Yes… Sherlock, wait, are you okay? You look very pale!" John said as he placed his hand on Sherlock's forehead, checking his temperature.

"Yes, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me! I need to go the morgue this afternoon; Lestrade has got another case for me I can sense it." Sherlock said flustered and with that, he stood up and left the room just as quickly as he had entered it.

As Sherlock hailed a cab outside 221B to go to the morgue, a feeling crept over him, one he had never experienced before. Was it guilt? Was it fear or doubt? A feeling he had only experienced once before and definitely not to his liking. His phone buzzed in his pocket, already knowing it was Lestrade calling him to help out on a case. This would only be the third case that he had been offered to help the force out with since he faked his death, due to legal reasons and complications. In the end, it took John to apologize and sing Sherlock's praises to the Chief Superintendent (the one he had chinned before Sherlock's mysterious faked death) to reinstate the force's trust in them, and allow Sherlock to work on the cases again. His mind had been starting to 'rot' as Sherlock called it before he was accepted once more by some not so willing participants.

"Lestrade what is it now?" Sherlock questioned as he answered the phone.

"I've got a case for you, cast iron alibi, I know you like those. It all looks normal to us but then again, why would it be. We need you Sherlock."

"Meet me at the morgue and fill me in then."

"So you'll take the case?"

"A case with a cast iron alibi, of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world!" Sherlock ended the phone call but when he was just about to slide his phone back into his pocket, something made him think of Harri. Perhaps this would be the best way, he thought.

Sherlock spent the next few minutes sitting in the back of the London Cab choosing his words carefully. Something he rarely did. John would soon receive a text reading: 'Pre-conception would always be our downfall. With words of wisdom, come words of peril. It's what she wanted. –SH' and then again another few minutes later: 'It's mine-SH', trying in his own way to explain to John about the pregnancy. Sherlock found he was becoming rather fond of his own quotation as the cabbie pulled up out the front of Bart's and he made his way up to the mortuary.

Later that day, John decided to visit Mrs. Hudson downstairs. He felt so awful due to not paying his way for the rent that month and having Sherlock fund the whole bill that he thought it right to apologize. He had started emerging from his room slightly more often. He still wasn't himself. The deep circles under his eyes were more furrowed and dark than ever and he always seemed quiet. The pain in his shoulder had flared up again but he kept himself to himself. Walking through the living room, he noticed his phone on the side. It was fully charged. **_That man!_** He thought. John unplugged it and put it in his pocket.

"I'm fine." He said as his landlady fussed him over checking he was in fact 'fine'.

"No need to apologize lad, I was the same once… the husband you know, but then again, it was tears of joy. Ignore me John; I'm going off on one again aren't I?" But just then, John's phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Excuse me Mrs. Hudson." He said as he pulled the phone out and checked the message. It was from Sherlock.


	12. Chapter 12- Who's him!

Chapter 12-

"Who's him?!"

After living in the vicinity of Sherlock for almost 3 years, John had a very informed knowledge of how his figurative codes worked. Vatican Cameos for one (meaning to duck) and Russian Mufflers another ((which Harri had made up) meaning to put your ear plugs in). They all had some way of linking back to their meaning. They weren't just made up phrases. Take Vatican Cameos. A cameo is someone in the background and the Vatican is, well, The Vatican. So what do people do in the background at the Vatican? They Pray. How do you pray? You duck. It took John only a few seconds to decipher Sherlock's meaning by the message. When the second text came through reading 'it's mine-SH' John fainted.

When he finally started to come round, Mrs. Hudson was fussing over him once more, with good reason, and helped him to sit up. His head swirled with dizziness, anger and guilt which made him feel ill.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" He complained to Mrs. Hudson as she continued to constantly pester him. He gradually stood up, his shoulder aching with the pain of the fall. He staggered upstairs out of earshot of his landlady and dialed Sherlock's number. There was no answer. **_Bloody typical_**, he thought. He tried to calm himself down with a cup of tea. It took his mind of the affair for the moment, he thought of how terrible his tea was earlier when Sherlock made it; which instantly reminded him of the texts and the terrible reasoning behind him. **_Could that be why he was so edgy earlier? He's never been good at trying to be sensitive and personal. _**John thought as he sat sipping tentatively at his tea and trying to put the horrid nagging thought to the back of his mind. He put the cup and saucer down beside him on the coffee table and sat back further into his chair. The realization of the events was starting to set in. Just then, his phone buzzed on the arm of his chair. It read:

Pre-conception would always be our downfall. With words of wisdom, come words of peril. -SH

It's Mine- Sh

I'll explain later. Please don't punch me. Back by 7:30-SH

7:30 was a long way off yet, so John decided he wasn't going to bother himself with troublesome thoughts now; let alone what he would say to Sherlock or Harri when they came home. However, Harri came home much earlier than John would have liked. She wondered up to the living room carrying multiple shopping bags.

"Hey, John how's things?" She asked in a cheery tone. "Nice to see you are out of your room!"

"Good, hum, yes… good." He said trying not to make much eye contact with his sister. She dropped her bags on the couch and tried to walk around the front of John as he looked away from her. Harri's quizzical face told him he was giving too much away.

"What's wrong John?" She asked as she held his hand out in front of him. "You're not still hung up of Lowri are you?" In fact, John had forgotten all about Lowri.

"No, No. It's just… I found out about the baby." He said quietly and hoped Harri hadn't heard. But she had.

"Who told you? She asked, seeming very embarrassed.

"Sherlock did." John said as he slowly raised his eyes to Harri's. Her face was pale, as if the entire colour had been drained out of it.

"I didn't think he would tell you so soon." She said quite bewildered.

"No, neither did I." he added as he lowered his eyes to Harri's stomach; **_curious_**. "Dear lord Harri! You're what two weeks pregnant and look at you! The bump is huge!" He knelt down and put his ear to it… just as Sherlock walked through the door to the living room.

"John!" He exclaimed and looked adamantly shocked. "What are you doing?!" He persisted. The doctor stood up almost instantly and took on his military pose as Sherlock aggressively paced over to him. He tried to seem tall against Sherlock but he knew he didn't. He attempted not to show his dismay though. Sherlock with his penetrating look, glared down at him. **_Why was John that close to Harri? They didn't get on the last time I checked. _**Sherlock thought as he continued to stare him down. It was John who ended up backing out first.

"Screw this!" He said with a raised voice. Sherlock! For Pete's sake! You're not even married! Why is it happening so quickly? She's what, two weeks in; look at her! What did you give her?!" John ranted at him.

"John calm down," came a soothing voice from his sister. "It's alright."

"NO IT'S NOT ALRIGHT!" He yelled at the top of his voice.

"Harri, sit down, it's not good for him." Sherlock instructed.

"Him? Who's him?!"


	13. Chapter 13- Experimenting

Chapter 13-

Experimenting

Two weeks later, the argument was almost forgotten. Harri's bump had grown to over 3 times the size it was.

Mycroft had come round that day to check on both Sherlock and Harri, something he rarely did. Sherlock pressed his nose against the Union Jack pillow and closed his eyes, listening to Mycroft sip at his tea and read the morning newspaper.

'Have you had anything to eat at all today?' Harri asked. Sherlock heard Mycroft put the mug down on the table. He didn't answer her.

'I didn't think so. I'll order us a curry, shall I?' Sherlock shrugged. Harri would harp on about it either way, so he might as well not put up a fuss.

"News is," Mycroft started talking. "Your friend Lowri is off dating another bloke. What's his name? Ed or something, Sherlock helped him in a case."

"Really? John won't be too pleased about that will he Sherlock?" He looked up to her and shrugged again. Sherlock let the sound of Harri's voice wash over him and focused on breathing in and out slowly. **_BORING!_** She walked over to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder; a reminder that he was not lost in this gutter between cases. His hand joined hers and he gave it a gentle squeeze. John was usually the one to carry out the reassuring gestures so it was a welcome change to receive them from Harri.

John was working that day at the clinic for the first time since the breakup. Sarah was at reception when he arrived there. She looked over the counter and gave a concerned yet content smile. "It's good to have you back John." She said as he walked past. He gave a slight nod of approval, cleared his throat and made his way to his office. The clock ticked slowly and John wondered what was currently happening at 221B. He couldn't wait for the day to end but when his working shift finished, John was more reluctant to go than he thought he would be. Something was bothering him. It was when he saw Sarah that made him realise what it was. He didn't know what he saw in her to make him remind himself of it but it just seemed to occur to him in that instant that he knew he couldn't leave until he had an answer.

"Sarah, I need to ask you something." He said as she was putting her scarf on ready to walk out of the doors.

Half an hour later, John had a much better understanding of something that he sincerely dreaded. Harri was in fact at the stage of a twenty seven week pregnant woman. Given his medical background and his outstanding use of common sense, he soon realized that this couldn't even be conceivable even with modern technology. He slapped himself for the pun. **_So that's what Sherlock was doing._** The realisation made his head giddy. To think his own sister had been subjected to Sherlock's experiments, let alone anything on this scale.

As John stepped through the door to the living room of 221B, Sherlock ran up to him.

"John, I need you to do an ultrasound." John's mouth dropped open and he had to force it shut. "Yes John, an ultra sound. Haven't you heard of one of those before? Please don't look so shocked!"

"Why do you need to do an ultrasound?" He asked timidly.

"I'm experimenting John."


End file.
